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  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Inside this book are hidden bonus features. Wherever you see

  Anadell

  the ‘airship’ symbol follow it to see secret majick lessons, extra short stories, an interactive almanac and much more. If your device does not have internet capabilities, go to www.phantomhearts.com and type the word below the ‘airship’ in the bonus code box. This box is located at the bottom of the home page along with brief instructions, and on the header of all other pages.

  And, yes, the links above lead to actual bonus features.

  You’re welcome.

  PROLOGUE

  APOLLO

  Once upon a time

  SANITY

  Once upon a time? That’s stupid!

  APOLLO

  Well, how would you start it?

  SANITY

  With explosions! And Bombs. And maybe things blowing up!

  APOLLO

  This isn’t that kind of story.

  SANITY

  What kind of story is it?

  APOLLO

  A love story

  SANITY

  Puh! Love Shmove. That’s not what people want.

  APOLLO

  Well you’re such an expert. What do they want?

  SANITY

  Big battles. And fights. And majick and monsters and evil spies. Mad scientists . . .

  APOLLO

  It has all that, too.

  SANITY

  Really? Well then – I’m listening.

  APOLLO

  It’s a time of firsts in Anadell: steam driven wonders giving way to modern movies, electric lights, clockwork automota and airships.

  SANITY

  Airships with bombs?

  APOLLO

  Can I get on with it?

  SANITY

  Of course. Why did you stop?

  APOLLO

  Hannah, a slave girl, couldn’t care less about any of this. As a Taker of the Dead, she’s always felt trapped. Alone. Useless.

  SANITY

  Useless like this story so far.

  APOLLO

  Jason is trapped inside his world of title and honor, expected to save the Republic in a brutal civil war.

  SANITY

  There we go. War!

  APOLLO

  Yes, a war. The first modern war. A terrible symphony of machine guns, poison gas, flame throwers . . .

  SANITY

  Yeah

  APOLLO

  . . . and trenches . . .

  SANITY

  Yeah!

  APOLLO

  . . . and flying machines . . .

  SANITY

  YES!

  APOLLO

  But it wasn’t always this way.

  SANITY

  No?

  APOLLO

  Ilsa was once the greatest city on Anadell. The mother of colonies and subject states, spreading science and culture and art

  SANITY

  And majick

  APOLLO

  No, never majick. For majick was outlawed in Ilsa. The fools arts to be despised and destroyed by the Grey Wolves

  SANITY

  I like wolves.

  APOLLO

  But not even these Wolves could save Ilsa from its enemies

  SANITY

  Where’s Chuck Norris when you need him?

  APOLLO

  Terrorists attacked Ilsa’s most prized city, Glass Waters, wreaking chaos across the country. Panic. Rebellion.

  SANITY

  Definitely some enemies

  APOLLO

  And not only enemies from without, but within

  SANITY

  What, like that bean burrito I had last night?

  APOLLO

  Slake Diamond, son of the most powerful Senator in the Republic, turned families on each other. “Ilsa has become weak,” he said. “Filled with mongrels and magicians. Fools and weaklings. We must be strong to save Ilsa!”

  SANITY

  Sounds like my kind of man!

  APOLLO

  You really are a terrible person, aren’t you?

  SANITY

  Eh, it’s a living. What did Diamond do?

  APOLLO

  Grabbed for power, led the people against the Senate and created The Family, a nation meant to rule the world and bring Ilsan Order to all corners of Anadell.

  SANITY

  You know round worlds don’t have corners, right?

  APOLLO

  But the Senate fought back. Five years of bloody fighting – countless dead, colonies and nations taking sides – a world at war.

  SANITY

  Isn’t that a video game?

  APOLLO

  Now, the Republic’s last hope stands in the bitter cold, fighting his own desire to be hidden away with the one he loves. But Hannah will be there when he returns.

  SANITY

  Ugh, get back to the flying machines and majick and stuff.

  APOLLO

  A single man. A secret mission. The last hope.

  SANITY

  Now you just sound like the movie trailer guy.

  APOLLO

  Jason will save the Republic. One more mission and then they will run away. Together forever . . .

  Jason Everett had died. This should have been undeniable. After all, no one can beat Death. He remembered the gunshots and the smoke, even his last breath. But he didn’t feel dead. There was no light at the end of the tunnel or hands dragging him down. He wasn’t cold. In fact, he wasn’t much of anything. His memories muddled together: her tears, the Diamond Book, all his promises. The rational half of his mind screamed in protest, warring against what he somehow knew to be true.

  What he simply couldn’t deny.

  Jason had died, but he was not Dead.

  “The love between the goddess Amani and the god Thane burned so fierce – a passion so desperate – that when barbarians slew Thane, Amani’s grief tore the third moon in half.”

  – Ilsan Creation Myth

  CHAPTER ONE

  Hannah Blue couldn’t move. She was trapped in formation, legs frozen in place, arms pinned to her body though there was nothing and no one touching her. Fear held her in place. Terror and silence and all those distant eyes. I wish it were me instead! she screamed inside.

  An icy breeze kissed her face, nearly freeing her tears. She didn’t mean that. She didn’t want to die, just never to have existed: never felt the lash of love or the bite of happiness. The anguish of losing him.

  Focus, Hannah.

  She raised her head and looked into the sky. Two and a half moons swam in a sea of twilight overhead. Hannah made a wish on the broken moon that hung between Thane and Amani. If you get me out of this, I don’t know what, but I swear I’ll do something. She swallowed hard and looked back across the field. The evening emerged soggy, windswept and bitterly cold. Last night’s rain still clung to the ground. As was common in this part of the Ilsan Republic, grey consumed everything like a monster gobbling up t
he sky, the mud, the buildings and the men.

  The Camp Thane airstrip lay thirty miles west of the Trenches where she was enslaved. This field normally launched the steam-powered flyers and gliders, or more recently bi- and tri-planes that battled high above No Man’s Land. Sometimes the airstrip served as a hospital, staining the dirt red with blood. Right now the land held the most sacred warrior ceremony.

  A ceremony she had ruined.

  Somehow she was in the middle of the field, the center of attention. Alone with the box.

  Her breath caught. All those distant eyes focused on her.

  The soldiers she’d pretended to be a part of snapped to attention. Rifles aimed at her. A siren blared, announcing intrusion.

  Soldiers gaped at her from across the field, obviously dumbstruck about how she’d slipped past security. That thought struck her funny. It hadn’t been that hard. No one watched the female slaves. Not that it had been easy. She nearly gave up before she stole her soldier’s disguise. She almost ran away when they selected her as part of the ceremony. But the thought of not knowing the truth – of not being absolutely sure – was more than she could bear. Now she was about to face the truth that had kept her sleepless for three days.

  Hannah stared at the six foot long, thee foot wide metal casket with silver swirls on the lid. Frost adorned the entire thing. She touched it and cut her hand on the cold, sharp edge. She jerked her hand back and wiped the blood on her shirt. She only had a few seconds before the Honor Guard tackled her. Hannah wiped away frost and brought her broken reflection into view. Short black hair hidden by a helmet. Large brown eyes wet with tears. A face that might have been pretty if not covered by dirt and soot. Nothing special though. No one special. Just a Taker of the Dead.

  In the past couple months, her reflection had shown a lot of things: passion, rapture, longing. Shock three days ago. Steel resolve only a few hours past. This time she saw only a glimmer of fear and a speck of relief.

  She would finally have her answer.

  Hannah removed her helmet, setting free her shoulder-length black hair. It didn’t matter if they knew she was a girl now.

  Sounds of feet splashed through the mud behind her, followed by razor sharp voices. Her heart beat faster as she gripped the top of the box, sucked in a frigid breath and pushed. The lid creaked and slid off. She leaned forward to look into the casket.

  A second passed. Her every muscle tensed.

  “Jason?” Her legs gave way.

  There was no denying it anymore. No telling herself someone else had been shot down.

  “Jason, you promised.” Her voice cracked. “You said forever.”

  Suddenly everything changed. The cold vanished. Green grass sprouted in a circle at her feet. Red and white flowers sprang from the mud. Her faded uniform became crisp and bright. The blood she’d wiped on her shirt shone vibrant red. She inhaled. The air in this bubble was fragrant, not smoky like the rest of the battlefront.

  The Honor Guard halted their charge, eyes wide, appearing paralyzed by something they couldn’t explain.

  She couldn’t explain it either.

  Hannah felt Jason’s warm touch on her face. His sweet breath upon her skin. Her feelings burst to life like the grass around her. Her heart nearly sprang from her chest.

  Jason!

  He was there. His embrace surrounded her.

  Then, fast as lightning, the majick fizzled away. Her world was icy and grey once more. The soldiers advanced.

  Hannah fell, sobbing. Pain burst across the back of her skull and sent her sprawling into the mud. Captured. As consciousness slipped away, she only had time for one last thought.

  Now I do want to die. I hope they make it quick.

  Hannah’s upper body lay slumped over the table, eyes closed. She’d been awake for a few minutes and could hear two guards heatedly discussing what to do with her, but refused to alert them. If she kept her eyes closed, maybe they’d do it quickly and she could live life as she dreamed. Hidden plans to run away. Flying high with Jason in a tri-plane, or wrapped in his embrace in the secret place where they’d first met. It wouldn’t matter where they were as long as he was next to her. His gentle hand . . .

  Wham!

  Something slammed on the table right next to her.

  The unnatural glass ball hanging by a thin metal wire startled her.

  Forbidden majick? A shudder ran through her. No. Electric light. Amazing. Scary.

  These marvels had begun to creep into her world, replacing steam and clockwork machines, but she had never seen one so close.

  An even voice commanded her attention, “Your name is Hannah Blue?”

  She turned to see a man wearing a Captain’s uniform, thick mustache, and a deep frown. Behind him, two young men held themselves at attention so fiercely that they looked more like statues. One had red hair. The color of Jason’s. The color of fire.

  Her mouth fell open but no words escaped.

  The Captain stepped closer. “When I speak, you will answer promptly. Are you Hannah, Ilsan subject?”

  Ilsa

  She nodded.

  “Your surname is Blue. A Taker of the Dead?”

  Another nod.

  “My superiors,” he continued, “think you are an assassin. One of Slake Diamond’s agents ordered to assassinate General Everett.”

  Her body went rigid. Everett? Jason wasn’t a general . . . but his father was. Of course Jason’s dad would be at his son’s funeral.

  The Captain bent closer. “The Family operatives are not captured so easily, and you were nowhere near the General. You were at the casket.”

  Hannah stared at the floor. Could she defend herself? Tell the truth? What would she say? I loved Jason and he loved me. I just had to know, had to see–

  The Captain’s sandpaper hand grabbed her chin. “Somewhat pretty.” He tilted her head this way and that and studied her, speaking mostly to himself. “Obviously intelligent. Is that what Jason saw in you?”

  Her eyes locked into his gaze. An icy chill slithered down her spine.

  “I see,” whispered the Captain. “A slave and a noble. And not any noble – an Everett. Must be seduction.” He released her. “In light of your current status as a slave, it is within my power to render judgment in your case. You are guilty. If not of this crime, then one worse.”

  He straightened. “I sentence you to hang at sunup tomorrow.”

  The next day burned bright. The scent of sweet bread drifted in the air.

  Hannah’s stomach churned.

  She’d tasted sweet bread once, when Jason had smuggled the two of them into the mess tent. Hannah had eaten greedily, but she’d saved a few pieces. The little slave kids would be hungry and it wouldn’t be fair for only her stomach to be silent that night.

  Her mind replayed the rest of that night. The first night he’d said he loved her. That he promised forever. That was the first night he’d made her feel beautiful, made her feel alive.

  The faintest smile crept onto her face.

  A bayonet pressed into her back, snapping her out of the memory.

  Bitter tears crawled into her eyes, bringing loneliness with them. Jason was gone. He would never hold her again. She reached to the beaded necklace around her neck. Felt the dried, yellow flower pedals spun into its twine. At least the soldiers hadn’t thought to take that.

  A soldier forced her into the last sunlight she would ever feel. He escorted her around an enormous black-stoned castle. Inside that castle was her Hall of Kings – the secret place she’d always escaped to.

  Never again.

  She looked away and wondered who would hang beside her. Criminals? Other slaves?

  Being a Taker of the Dead, she was responsible for scouring the fields after battle. Battles like the w
orld had never seen. Enormous diesel trucks chewed through Trenches filled with troops. Machine guns splayed young men across No Man’s land. Exploding mines. Poison gas. Hannah’s days were full. It was she who sorted those who could be saved from those too far gone, ultimately deciding which families received a hero’s letter instead of a son or daughter. Death was constantly on Hannah’s mind. Other people’s death; never her own. The Ilsans would give her no funeral rites, not even a tombstone. What would her gravestone have said, anyway? Here lies Hannah Blue, Taker of the Dead. She didn’t even know her family name. “Blue” was a classification, not a history.

  She would rather her tombstone read: Here lies Hannah Everett, Faithful Lover.

  “Stop,” commanded her escort before shouting ahead. “Halt!”

  Another man approached from the castle wall. His spotless uniform gleamed and shadows from his helmet hid his face.

  The soldier at Hannah’s side barked, “Identify!”

  Without a word, the intruder raised his rifle. Hannah’s escort clamored with his weapon. Both moved professionally. Both took aim. One shot rang out, echoing off the castle walls.

  Her soldier fell.

  The intruder lowered his weapon and turned to Hannah. “Come with me. Quick.”

  Hannah didn’t move.

  “Let’s go! Unless you want to be hanged?”

  She barely blinked.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I am Jason’s friend. There’s something you need to know.”

  “What will I do now that my son is dead? Claim an heir, win the war and pray Jason finds his peace.”

  – Interview with General Everett

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE DAY OF JASON’S FUNERAL

  Freedom burned through Jason.

  Not that he was any stranger to freedom. As a flying ace with the SkyCorps, he was free from gravity all the time. His father was never around long enough to give him any real restrictions and no one ever dare reprimand the son of General Everett. So Jason had always been free to go where he pleased and do whatever he wanted – so long as he lived up to his noble birth.